


A Little Like Brothers

by Anonymous



Series: A Little Series [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Age Play, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infantilism, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Sexual Abuse, Teddy Bears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7378783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s no easy way to say this.”</p><p>“You were having sex with Pierce?” Hill says, clearly trying to be helpful, like Steve didn’t think that was already clear and like he would be too scandalized to say the word ‘sex’ somehow.</p><p>“Yes, but there’s more.”</p><p>Hill does look slightly surprised that time but she stops trying to fill in the blanks for him.</p><p>Steve can’t look at her when he says this. He stares down at where he has his hands clasped together and he flushes pink up the back of his neck to the tip of his ears.</p><p>“Bucky wasn’t the only one calling Alexander Pierce ‘Daddy,’” he finally manages to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Like Brothers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Little Interludes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705493) by [Lauralot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot). 



> I had this terrible idea that Steve had a Daddy!Kink he consensually acted out with Pierce and had to write it.

“You know,” Bucky said, dropping Steve onto the bed.

Steve groaned and rolled over, his ass was still throbbing. Bucky was going to kill him once he was healed.

“If there is something you need,” Bucky went on, voice tight. He pulled the blankets down to drag them up over Steve. “You could always ask me."

And then, to add to Steve’s list of mortifications of the day, Bucky bent down, tugged out the trunk that Steve kept hidden under his bed, flipped back the lid and procured a very old, worn teddy bear. It was one of the few items left over from Steve’s childhood that he didn’t hock or throw out when he moved in with Bucky. It was fraying along he seams, the red bow around its neck had long lost its shimmer and its glass eyes were scratched up.

Bucky thrust it at Steve with a blank look on his face and Steve blushed profusely, taking it from him, resisting the urge to cuddle it to his chest, instead tucked it under his elbow absentmindedly.

“I’m not,” Steve started but Bucky hushed him, sat on the bed beside him and ran a hand through his hair.

He bent down and kissed the side of Steve’s head – a familiar, platonic gesture that Steve wouldn’t admit he was starved for but Bucky seemed to know. Bucky always seemed to _know_.

“I know you’re not a kid,” Bucky said, voice pitched low, right in Steve’s ear, his arm over Steve’s bony shoulders, hand resting comfortably on his bicep. Steve longed to curl a little into the embrace, feel how sturdy Bucky’s body was compared to his, take shelter in it like the kid he wasn’t. “But you’re allowed to want the things you want. Just don’t get _hurt_ getting them, all right?” he said.

Steve nodded quickly, not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky gave his shoulder one final squeeze with his fingers and stood up. “Get some sleep,” he said and tousled Steve’s hair. “I’ll wake you up with dinner in a bit.”

 

\---

 

Steve has been staring at Maria Hill’s number in his phone for nearly an hour. CNN is playing on low in the background and his gut is churning. He needs to call her.

There is nothing else he wants less in the world to do.

And while he’s sitting there, thumb hovering over Ms. Hill’s number, Bucky appears briefly in his peripheral vision before hiding behind the couch.

Bucky is not taking preparations for the trial well.

(Steve does not blame him.)

The problem (although, Steve is hesitant to label it a “problem” because that feels too much like blaming Bucky for the situation) is that when Bucky stresses out, he regresses. Which means Steve is spending a lot of time comforting him and there is a tiny, sick part of him (these days, it feels like most of him is sick and twisted in some regard) that enjoys it but taking care of Bucky lately has eclipsed most of his time, making it difficult for him to do other things he needs to do.

Like calling Ms. Hill and confessing his sins to her.

(She’s going to blow a gasket and he won’t blame her.)

In the current moment, however, he is glad for the distraction. He gets to postpone his misery a little bit longer. He puts his phone away and briefly looks over the couch. Bucky is crouched there, holding Bucky Bear and a picture book. That’s when Steve looks at the clock beside the television and realizes it’s half an hour past Bucky’s bedtime.

Shit. He forgot to read to him. _Shit shit shit._ He hasn’t fucked up this bad in a while.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he says, turning the TV off and moving around the couch. He crouches down to eye level with the kid (jeeze, sometimes it takes him by surprise how easy it is to view Bucky as a kid when he’s in this mindset).

Bucky doesn’t look at him, even when Steve gently brushes his hair back from his face. “I’m so sorry,” Steve says again. “I didn’t mean to forget.” He wonders, briefly, if Bucky thinks he didn’t read to him because he thinks Bucky is a terrible little boy. That’s what Bucky jumps to so often these days when things don’t go perfectly. It breaks Steve’s heart.

“’s okay,” Bucky mutters, fidgeting a little with Bucky Bear’s ears.

“I’m normally more on the ball and Jarvis didn’t remind me.”

“told him not to,” Bucky says, his voice soft, the tiny lisp he gets when he’s little seemingly that much more pronounced because of it.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t wanna bother you…,” Bucky says and Steve can feel the ghost of Pierce in the room. Knows, without Bucky having to tell him, that Pierce told him only bad little boys interrupt their daddies with picture books…

“No, lamb, you never bother me,” Steve says, standing up and sweeping Bucky into his arms. Bucky warps his legs around Steve’s waist on instinct, burying his face against Steve’s shoulder. “If there’s something you need,” Steve says as he carries Buck to the elevator. “All you have to do is ask.”

His kisses Bucky’s forehead and carries him to bed.

He reads him two stories to make up for missing his bedtime to begin with and both boy and bear get a kiss on the nose before Steve turns out the light.

 

\---

 

Bucky waited almost a week before bringing it up again.

Steve was late coming home from work – he got a gig helping out a sign maker after his art classes a few times a week – and when he got home, he found Bucky in just his slacks and undershirt, suspenders kicked off his shoulders and his feet bare, sitting on Steve’s bed with the teddy bear in his hands.

Steve froze in the doorway.

“You know I’ll never judge you?” Bucky asked, gently, not lifting his eyes from the worn out stuffed animal.

“I... I guess,” Steve replied timidly.

Bucky looked up at him then. “Would you please just tell me what’s going on? Just so I know, I won’t… I won’t _stop_ you. I just want to understand.”

Steve let go of the doorframe and scratched the back of his head. “I’m not sure you can understand,” he said, carefully keeping his voice even.

“Let me try?” Bucky asked, his voice so sincere, so goddamn sincere that Steve couldn’t refuse him.

 

\---

 

Bucky is still little in the morning.

He also drank his smoothie too fast and spends the next forty-five minutes with his head over a toilet bowl, moaning and retching and generally being miserable.

Steve alternates between sitting on the edge of the tub while holding his hair out of the way and sitting on the floor next to him and rubbing his back.

Finally, Bucky gives up and leans back against the wall, his prosthetic arm resting on one knee. He’s paler than normal, drenched in sweat and Steve’s heart aches in sympathy.

None of this is easy.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Bucky says timidly when Steve leans in to push his bangs off his forehead where they had been sticking.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Steve assures him.

“’m not supposed to make messes,” Bucky says, because he did start this vomiting spell on the kitchen floor.

Steve just hushes him. “It’s okay. No one is mad.”

Bucky never seems to quite believe him that he wouldn’t be mad but all Steve can do is continue to love him, continue to not get mad.

But it feels a little Sisyphean at times. Like no amount of love is ever going to undo Pierce’s handiwork.

And, not for the first time, Steve wishes he could take his anger out a little more directly at the man.

He manages to get Bucky to shower and put on new pajamas. He’s normally tries to encourage Bucky to get dressed every day but spending the whole morning vomiting left Steve more inclined to encourage Bucky into a nap than anything else.

Bucky, still miserable and probably a still a little bit nauseous, lets Steve tuck him back into bed and pass him Bucky Bear as soon as he’s settled.

“It’ll be okay, Buck,” he promises him – never sure if he’s lying or not when he says that. “If you need anything, have Jarvis get me?” he says.

Bucky nods. “’kay,” and then he’s closing his eyes and going back to sleep.

Steve watches him for a long moment. He likes the way Bucky looks in sleep – the etched lines of his face smoothing out, uncurtailed by both the wearing of time or the childish gestures Pierce made him act out. He just looks like Bucky while he’s asleep. Like Steve’s long lost friend and almost-lover.

Steve figures it’s now or never and goes back to his room so no one will over hear him and pulls his phone out.

Hill picks up on the second ring.

“What can I do for you, Steve?” she asks.

“I need to tell you something,” he says. He puts his free hand on his desk and leans on it to keep it from shaking. “It’s about Bucky’s case. Is there a time we can meet to speak in person?” he asks.

He listens to Hill look over her calendar on her computer.

“I can come by the tower tomorrow morning if that works best for you?” she asks.

Steve agrees and they hang up.

He stands there for a long moment trying to catch his breath.

He doesn’t want to do this.

 

\---

 

Bucky was silent after Steve told him. He was still sitting on Steve’s bed and still holding the bear, looking out the window instead of at Steve. He didn’t seem tense or upset, just thoughtful.

Steve remembers thinking it was a lot to digest.

“I get liking boys,” Bucky said. (It had been about two years since Buck mentioned to him that he sometimes liked guys too.) “I guess it’s the… the other thing I don’t get.”

“You don’t have to get it,” Steve said, defeated. “I don’t really get it myself. I guess it’s because… because my Pa died when I was so young.”

“So you didn’t get that,” Bucky cut him off. “Approval or affection or something from an older man and you want it and this is a way to get it.”

Steve nodded, blushing bright red all over again. It wasn’t a fun conversation.

“Okay,” Bucky said.

“Okay?”

Bucky shrugged, standing up and setting the bear down on Steve’s pillow. “I mean, my Pa’s still alive, who am I to tell you how to feel when I don’t know what it’s like? I just want you to be safe,” Bucky said and stepped in on Steve, rested his hands on Steve’s thin shoulders. “Don’t let anyone hit you like that anymore. You need someone to come get you, don’t be afraid to ask me. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

\---

 

Steve brings Hill up to his sitting room for this, instead of one of the offices they normal meet in.

“Jarvis,” he starts. “Is it possible for you to not record this conversation?” he asks.

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis replies.

Steve smiles sheepishly at Hill, who raises her eyebrow.

“I suppose you don’t want me to take notes either?” she says.

“Can we just discuss this first?” Steve asks, gesturing for her to sit down in the armchair perpendicular to the couch.

Hill nods and sits down.

Steve sits across from her, on the far end of the couch and worries his hands together. He doesn’t speak at first, trying to find the best angle to start from.

“I, uh,” he says, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

He hates this so much.

Starts again.

“Under any other circumstances, I would not tell you this,” he says.

Hill is giving him her undivided attention and it’s a little bit unnerving. That scrutiny.

“I was involved with Alexander Pierce,” he says, direct and to the point, like laying his cards on the table.

Hill blinks, clearly surprised but otherwise does not react.

“I should have told you earlier, much earlier but I stalled because I don’t want to talk about it,” he admits, somehow managing to keep his voice completely level while he does. He sounds clinical even to himself, like he’s having an out of body experience and watching some apathetic stranger take his life apart for him.

“But,” he continues. “I knew I would have to tell you eventually because I fear the prosecution will somehow find out and find a way to use it to harm Bucky’s case and I want there to be no surprises that I could prevent.”

Hill nods. “Well, thank you for telling me, then. I guess my first question is – are there any correspondences between you and Pierce that they might find? Texts, emails, phone messages?”

Steve nods. “There are a few, I’m sure. I can find them and forward them to you. I need to elaborate before you ask more questions, though.”

Hill gives him a polite _go on_ gesture with the palm of her hand.

“We made almost no mention of our relationship in our correspondences due to the nature of our relationship. And before you ask, to the best of my knowledge, no one else was aware of my relationship with Pierce,” he says and shakes his head slightly. “I haven’t told Bucky yet either.”

“Understandable,” Hill says gently.

“I… let me reiterate, this is not something I want _out_ but I’m afraid it might come to light by accident, somehow, I don’t know how, during the trial and you need to know just in case.”

“All right,” Hill says.

“I…,” Steve starts. He swallows and shifts a little in his seat. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“You were having sex with Pierce?” Hill says, clearly trying to be helpful, like Steve didn’t think that was already clear and like he would be too scandalized to say the word ‘sex’ somehow.

“Yes, but there’s more.”

Hill does look slightly surprised that time but she stops trying to fill in the blanks for him.

Steve can’t look at her when he says this. He stares down at where he has his hands clasped together and he flushes pink up the back of his neck to the tip of his ears.

“Bucky wasn’t the only one calling Alexander Pierce ‘Daddy,’” he finally manages to say.

It feels horrible. Like swallowing glass and throwing it back up. He feels like he’s just flashed her, shown her an incredibly private thing against his wishes but he doesn’t want the world to find out about his kink (he knows that word now, thanks to Google) in a courtroom where his best friend has been accused of treason and murder. Or, if his dirty laundry has to be aired out in front of everyone (and a self-deprecating part of him thinks it should be. Bucky is being dragged through the mud, why should he expect any better?) then he at least wants the defense to be prepared to defend Bucky from how depraved he is.

Because he willingly went to his knees before Alexander Pierce and the prosecution will claim Bucky did too. The prosecution will paint them out to be two matching perverted peas-in-a-pod and crucify them both.

And, god help him, Steve Rogers does not want Bucky to find out what happened between him and Pierce like that.

He knows he has to tell Bucky, but, like Hill, he doesn’t want to and he’s putting it off.

“I have to admit, those are not the words I was expecting to hear you say but, thank you, Steve. That is an important detail to know. Forward me all the correspondence you can find between you and Pierce so I can be as prepared as I can and I will also, discretely, do some interviews to make sure no one else knew.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, still red and ashamed.

“Is there anything else I should be aware of? Did you two have dinner in public often or rent hotel rooms together?”

Steve shakes his head. “We only… we only spent time together at Pierce’s house. I would ride my motorcycle over, so not even a cab driver would know.”

Hill nods. “But his neighbors might have seen you or your bike?”

“I guess so,” Steve agrees, realizing he hadn’t thought of that. For all their discretion there was still problems.

“Have you told Sargent Barnes?” Hill asks, her voice, again, pitched deliberately gentle.

Steve shakes his head. “Not yet. I will, I’m just… not ready.”

Hill nods. “It’ll be better for him to know sooner than later.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I just… I don’t want him to hate me,” Steve says.

But Hill, though she has many dynamic qualities, she is not a therapist and she says nothing in response.

\---

 

He meet an older man at the corner store, a couple blocks away from the tenement he shared with Bucky.

The man was in his late forties, gray hair around his temples but still sturdy and handsome. He was an accountant, had his own apartment and he’d managed to keep himself afloat through the depression. Even had a little to spare. He never married, no children.

He’d struck up a conversation with Steve while Steve was painting the store’s name across the wide glass window in the front. He’d complimented both Steve and his beautiful penmanship and said a few things that walked the line between flirtatious and friendly and then, as Steve was putting the finishing touches on the sign, offered to buy Steve a drink in a bar around the corner. You know, if he had no where else to be and was done with work for the night.

Steve had brushed his bangs out of his eyes, getting a dab of yellow paint on his cheek in the process and looked at the man.

The man stepped in on Steve then and said, “Here,” pulling a rag from where it was hanging out of Steve’s pocket and used it to wipe away the paint on his face.

Steve’s mouth had gone completely dry and he’d watched the stranger, completely transfixed, as he handed the rag back.

“Sure,” Steve said. “Let me just—I have to talk to the owner about getting paid.”

“Take your time,” the stranger replied. “Meet me at the bar,” he said and left.

Steve had gotten paid and gone to meet the stranger only to find himself standing outside of a known gay bar.

It was a tipping point. He had crushes on male peers and older men alike through his life but he’d never… he’d never _indulged_. He was a good Catholic boy and he didn’t want people to talk more than they already did. Sure, he didn’t like bullies but also didn’t want to give them fodder if he could help it.

But something about the man, cleaning the paint from his face, the gentleness of his hands and eyes…

Steve had gone in. Had a drink with him. Or three.

His name was William. Not Billy, not Will, _William._

He liked boys, exclusively. Liked them younger than him, too. Thinner than him. Shorter than him. Liked to dote on them a little bit. Buy them nice things – a hearty meal, an expensive drink, a silk shirt.

Liked to take them home and bind their wrists. Liked to gag them with his ties or fingers or dishrags or his cock. Liked to manhandle them. Spank them. Cover their mouths so they couldn’t wake the neighbors when he road them hard, bent over on his bed.

Liked it when Steve called him _Daddy_. Liked it when Steve got on his knees in front of him and let him pull his hair till his eyes welled with tears. Liked to kiss him while holding him down and tell him _everything will be okay._

Liked to tie Steve up, slap him in the face, in the balls, wait for him to almost break and then hold him and say _Daddy’s here, don’t cry now son, Daddy’s here_.

And it was good. Steve was happy. He liked it. He… he craved it. William’s affections. Even… even when he went to far. Even when Steve thought he was going to break his ribs or his nose or not let him up for air.

See, he always, always held Steve after. Let Steve cry into his collarbone and hang onto him and call him _Daddy_. Brushed his hair off his forehead and kissed him gently, cradled him close.

He liked it. Even when it hurt. Even when he didn’t like it. He wanted William’s approval. Was afraid every time William went out that he would find a younger guy, a prettier guy, a man with better lungs, sturdier body and then he wouldn’t want Steve anymore.

So Steve let him do whatever he wanted. Strip him down and bend him over a wooden kitchen chair and spank him till he was black and blue and then make him sit in said chair while William slowly fed him dinner from his own hands, delighting in Steve’s every whimper.

Choked Steve until he blacked out or called him names that Steve didn’t like, or once painted his face up like a girl only to make Steve cry off all the makeup.

Another time, told him to come by on an evening when it was snowing and didn’t let him in for nearly an hour. Steve had caught a bad cold after that. Showed up at William’s house with a fever the next day because William told him to come over, only to send him home – disgusted with Steve’s fever sweat and rattling cough.

It went on like that for nearly four months till William went to far one evening, beat his already bruised ass and Steve broke down, sobbing and begging and William threw him out.

The brother of a friend of Bucky’s found Steve on the street and sent for Bucky. Bucky came and collected Steve and carried him home. Steve remembers waking up in his arms, Bucky’s sturdy hands holding him bridal style, Steve’s head curled in to his chest. He let himself lull there, soak in the shameful comfort he got from the embrace, even as his head pounded and his ass throbbed.

Bucky, however, had been suspicious of things for a while but Steve wouldn’t tell him what was going on. Would come home from William’s apartment and – only when he thought Bucky wasn’t looking – would fish out that damn teddy bear from its place under his bed and slip beneath the blankets, suck his thumb and smell his shirt where a trace of William’s cologne always lingered.

But Bucky apparently knew about that and dragged the rest out of him.

Told him it was okay, it was okay to have an older man, to even call him… call him _that_ but he wouldn’t stand by and let anyone abuse Steve anymore. He put his foot down.

(Steve secretly wondered if Bucky would like it, would let him. If Bucky – though not that much older – would pet Steve’s hair and feed him and let Steve call him _Daddy_. But, he never asked. It seemed like too much and Bucky was his closest friend, sometimes, his only friend. If things went sideways, he’d be left with no one.)

He might’ve tried again to find someone to fill that roll. But he needed some time after William, to heal both physically and emotionally and then the war started and Bucky shipped out (along with most of Brooklyn) and it felt too selfish to look for a relationship, any relationship really, while boys he grew up with were dying overseas.

It wasn’t until the ice had thawed and he found himself settled into a life in Washington D.C., seventy years in the future, that he let himself wonder if he could have that again.

Only, this time, he promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone abuse him again. It would be well agreed to and talked out and he would never let anyone hurt him because he was afraid to lose them.

He didn’t have Bucky to look out for him anymore, the least he could was look out for himself a little in memory of Bucky.

 

\---

 

He sends Hill everything he can find between him and Pierce. It’s all innocuous on the surface – text messages and emails. Steve isn’t one to keep voice mails and he’s fairly certain that Pierce wasn’t either. Most of the messages are SHIELD related. Many of them mass messages that went out to all STRIKE team members, updating them on various situations and protocols or ordering them to meetings.

There are a few that will look bad in court, but even those are fairly vague.

 

 _July 5, 2013, 7:27 p.m._  
_Pierce: 9:30?  
_ _Steve: I’ll be there._

_August 9, 2013, 10:23 a.m._  
_Pierce: have to cancel  
_ _Steve: okay_

_August 12, 2013, 12:03 a.m.  
_ _Pierce: free tomorrow evening if you are_

_December 24, 2013, 6:43 p.m.  
_ _Steve: Merry Christmas_

And others. But none of them are more detailed than that, none of them does Steve call him _Daddy_ or even make mentions of them having sex.

But it’s enough to question him about in court. Why was he spending time with Pierce in non-professional setting at all?

They’ll take him apart on the stand. They’ll claim he knew about the Winter Soldier. They’ll charge him with treason and he won’t be able to protect Bucky anymore.

He has to sit down and put his face in his hands, breathe deep the way Bruce taught Bucky to when he’s feeling overwhelmed.

This shouldn’t have _happened._ It’s like he can’t have anything to himself. Or it’s some sort of karmic justice for being a sick and twisted pervert.

He promises himself that the next time Bucky is big, he’ll tell him. He’ll come clean with him.

Sometimes Bucky remembers Brooklyn. Remembers the school they went to and his gaggle of sisters. He remembers Steve being skinny and nearly dying. Remembers Steve’s mom sometimes too. How she was frail like Steve but always willing to fight.

Steve doesn’t know if Bucky remembers the incident with William and he doesn’t want to ask.

He’s afraid it’s too close to home, too close to what Pierce did to him, doesn’t want to rock the boat.

But, he’ll have to tell him eventually.

 

\---

 

It’s just the next time Bucky is grown up, he’s shooting the shit with Clint over a Japanese game show and he looks so _happy,_ so _grown up_ and _happy_ that Steve doesn’t want to take that away.

He watches Bucky cuss at some guy who can’t make the jump from the platform to the swinging rope while Clint laughs and then retreats to his own rooms.

He’s afraid of the fallout. What will Bucky think of him? What will _little_ Bucky think of him?

He’s afraid Bucky won’t trust him anymore. So he hides.

 

\---

 

He met Pierce at a fundraiser. He can’t remember what the fundraiser was for, it wasn’t related to SHIELD but it was one of those networking events politicians and other important and wanna-be-important people turn out to.

Fury had asked him to go. Said that if he had to go, least he could do was get Captain America to go. He promised that Steve just had to shake a few hands, maybe take a few selfies (this word said with derision) and have a drink or two and he could take off. Two hours, tops.

Steve could tell the underlying message here was “people will show up and donate money if they know they might get to meet Captain America for it” and while that didn’t delight him, he figured why not? It was for a good cause and it wasn’t like he had a date that evening or anything.

So Steve put on an uncomfortable tux and went to the fundraiser. He made small talk with anyone who approached him. He posed for pictures. He drank champagne. He donated to the charity. He didn’t think about Bucky and everyone else he was missing. He stopped looking for Peggy’s face in the crowd.

He was doing just fine being the prop Fury needed him to be when Alexander Pierce sauntered towards him.

And make no mistake, it was a saunter. One hand in his pocket, the other on his flute of champagne, kicking his legs out a little as he walked, coming to a stop in front of Steve.

“Captain,” he said and tipped his glass toward him.

Steve nodded at him. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Steve Rogers,” he said and put out his hand.

“Alexander Pierce,” Pierce replied and shook his hand firmly. “I thought that did nothing for you,” he said, motioning towards Steve’s own glass.

“You thought correctly, but, it’s hard to stop wishful thinking.”

“I don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t get drunk anymore,” he said.

When Steve looks back at the moment, he couldn’t say what came over him. Something about Pierce – maybe the fact that he had blonde hair and blue eyes, maybe it was how self-assured he was, the way he looked like he could command a room, maybe it was how something about him reminded Steve of a picture of his father his mother used to keep on her dresser. Whatever it was, Steve found himself smiling a little cockily at Pierce and saying, “You find other ways to relax.”

“Is that so?” Pierce replied, following smoothly in Steve’s led. “What does Captain America do to relax?”

“I’m sure the same things every man does,” Steve said.

Pierce took a sip of his glass. “You sure every man does?”

“Well,” Steve agreed, “Maybe not every man.”

Pierce stepped in on him a little then and Steve found himself instinctively slouching a little, like submitting, letting Pierce somehow be the bigger man.

“But some men,” Pierce said, low and close to his ear before stepping back.

Steve’s mouth went dry as his ears went hot.

“Captain,” Pierce said, suddenly formal again. “I’m not sure how adjusting to the future is going for you but I’ve been working for SHIELD since I graduated from college so if there is anything you want more details on from someone who was there, you are welcome to pick my brain anytime,” Pierce said and handed Steve his card. “Don’t hesitate to call,” he said and shook Steve’s hand a second time before vanishing into the crowd.

\---

 

Hill calls him in the morning with good news.

“So far there is no evidence of you and Pierce that I can find, but that doesn’t mean that neighbors didn’t see you coming and going from his house. Also, I have a meeting set up with Rumlow. If anyone was going to know that you and Pierce were…,” she doesn’t finish the sentence. “It would probably be him. Or see if he, you know, heard through the grapevine or whatever.”

Hill is talking fast, clearly busy assembling their case.

“Rumlow?” Steve asks.

Hill pauses. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you and Sargent Barnes about that. Rumlow has agreed to testify on Barnes’ behalf.”

“Rumlow?” Steve repeats, dumbfounded.

“Brock Rumlow,” Hill says like she’s trying to prompt Steve’s memory. Like his memory is the problem in this equation.

“I know who he is. He’s HYDRA, he stood back and let Pierce abuse Bucky. Why would he testify on Bucky’s behalf?”

“He struck a deal with Pepper and me,” she says and there is an edge of bitterness to her voice. “He’ll testify on behalf of Bucky if we do everything in our power to keep him out of jail.”

“You’re going to keep Rumlow out of jail.”

“Try to. He’ll have a jury trial the same as Bucky, they might put him away despite our best efforts. But he’s a good witness, he saw Bucky in the child’s mindset, he knew what Pierce was doing, he saw Bucky get tortured. His testimony is invaluable. Besides, keeping him out of jail isn’t the same as getting him off scott free. Even if he dodges jail time, he’ll probably be put under house arrest for the rest of his life.”

“Even that’s too good for him,” Steve growls, takes a breath and manages to collect himself. “You need to ask Bucky.”

“Yes, of course. I just haven’t yet.”

“Soon,” Steve demands. “He needs to know soon.”

Hill is quiet for a moment. “Rumlow is probably not the only thing he needs to know about soon.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. Then he sighs.

“I’ll tell Bucky about both.”

“You sure?”

“You’re busy and he might take it better coming from me.”

“Okay, let me know what he says. I’ll keep you informed,” Hill says and hangs up.

Steve stares at the phone for a long moment and then goes to find Bucky.

 

\---

 

The thing was that Steve and Pierce didn’t jump into a relationship. It started out slow. Steve came over for dinner a few times and honestly did pick Pierce’s brain. He learned a lot of things that weren’t in the history documentaries recommended to him, or any of the books he read. Classified stuff that Pierce felt he should know, as Captain America, as a member of SHIELD.

They also talked about family, lost friends. Pierce was at that age that people he loved had died or were dying. Not many, but enough that he sympathized with some of Steve’s loss.

And he took an interest in Steve. Asked him questions about WWII – both questions about the battlefield and Steve’s personal life off of it. Questions about Peggy and the Howling Commandos.

Questions about Bucky.

(Steve’s stomach twists itself into knots thinking about how Pierce listened to Steve tell stories about Bucky from both childhood and the battlefield, stories that couldn’t be found in any biography on either of them, and still made Bucky call him ‘Daddy’ and suck him off. Steve does truly wish, sometimes, that he could’ve killed Pierce slower.)

Then, after they had simply been spending time together on occasion for about a month, Pierce leaned back in his chair with a glass of brandy and said, “So, Steve, you’re interested in more than just friendship with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Pierce was observant and sure of himself and Steve was a sure thing.

Steve nodded, his cheeks already starting to turn pink.

“Well, you know I’m widowed, not really looking for a new partner, not exactly, and it would be a huge scandal if you started dating, not only the head of shield, but a man twice your age.”

“Are you saying you’re not interested?” Steve asked.

“No,” Pierce replied simply. “I’m saying, if we do this, it’s only this. I’m not your partner, I’m not your significant other. I’m the guy you eat dinner with and fuck on occasion.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Pierce took a sip of his drink then set it down and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is that all you want, Steve? Sex?”

He held Steve’s gaze, like he was daring Steve to back down.

Steve was silent for a moment. This was the conversation he never had with William. The one he should’ve, the one about consent and boundaries and safe words (the internet really was useful).

Steve shook his head and tried to suppress his blush. “No, I want something more complex than just sex.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Steve’s mouth went dry. He hasn’t said it aloud since the 40’s, since Buck made him say it in his room in that tenement house all those years ago.

“If you can’t say it, I can’t agree to it,” Pierce said after Steve’s silence went on a while.

“I want… I want to be hit,” he said.

“Is that all?”

Steve shook his head.

“Spanked.”

“Okay,” Pierce said.

Steve turned his own glass on the table, the alcohol untouched. “I have a kink,” he admitted.

“Oh?” Pierce said, interested piqued. He leaned forward. “Please, tell me what Captain America’s kink is.”

“First, to not be called ‘Captain America’ by the man who’s dick I want to suck.”

Pierce laughed, low and warm. “Fair enough.”

“And…” Steve rolled his eyes at himself, at how hard this was to admit out loud even though he wanted it. “I think it’s called a ‘Daddy kink.’ Or age play. Or both, really.”

Pierce’s eyes twinkled. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

Steve didn’t meet his eye, instead, scratched subconsciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things I wish I’d known in the 40’s that we just didn’t have the words for.”

“I’m sure,” Pierce said. “So, you want to get on your knees for me and call me Daddy?” Pierce asked and his voice was pure sin. Steve wasn’t sure he would survive it.

“Yes, very much.”

“Have you thought about it yet?” Pierce asked, his pupils starting to dilate.

Steve nodded.

“With me or in general?”

“Both,” Steve said.

“Jerked yourself off to it? Thought about getting down on your knees and calling me Daddy and letting me put my cock between your lips? Hold your head still with my hands and fuck your face.”

“Fuck,” Steve said, the word punched out of him on an exhale. William hadn’t spoken to him like that. William just did what he wanted. “Yes,” Steve admitted. “Yes.”

Pierce smiled. “I can work with that. There will need to be… continued discussion. Boundaries, safe words, you know.”

“Of course.”

“But I’m very interested, Steve. Very interested indeed.”

 

\---

 

Bucky is little and he’s drawing pictures with Sam when Steve finds him in the play room.

Natasha is out doing whatever it is SHIELD is having her do this week, so Sam is spending time with him.

Steve ruffles his hair as he goes to sit on the couch.

Sometimes, he just like to be in the same room as Bucky – to remind himself that Bucky is real and alive and _here_ and also because he feels so rotten for the weeks he spent trying to discretely avoid Bucky when they first got him back.

(That’s something else he’s going to have to tell Bucky – when Bucky first called him ‘Daddy’ and tried to undo his pants, Steve was a little unsure of the timeline. He feared, maybe, maybe Pierce chose that particular method to abuse Bucky because of Steve. He would later figure out – by combing through HYDRA’s files with Natasha – that Pierce had already been abusing Bucky for some time before he even met Steve. This knowledge, however, did nothing but make Steve’s blood boil when he realized that Pierce probably just found it funny that Steve _wanted_ what he was _making_ Bucky do.)

“You gonna show him?” Sam asks when Steve begins to check his email on his phone.

Bucky ducks his head, hiding his face – he’s so shy when he’s little, it breaks Steve’s heart sometimes.

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters.

“Show him,” Sam encourages again.

“Show me what?” Steve asks, putting his phone away.

Bucky stands up with a drawing in his hands and shuffles over to Steve.

“I drew… I drew Captain Ameribear for you,” he says and thrusts the picture at Steve like it’s something he’s trying to get rid of.

Steve takes it with a shaking hand, the memory of Bucky shoving Steve’s worn-out teddy bear at him briefly superimposing itself over reality like a negative photograph for a moment. But then the world rights itself and he can appreciate the crayon lines of Captain Ameribear’s blue coat and circular shield.

“It’s great, Buck,” he says and means it. “Thank you.”

Bucky squirms a little under the praise. Steve knows, somehow, that he wants it, wants to be told he’s a good boy (because Pierce used to and it was the only good thing he had in his life at that time) but he also knows that Bucky no longer knows how to react to it since Pierce only showed him one way to react to praise.

“Come here,” Steve says and pulls Bucky down into his lap. He holds him close and kisses the side of his face.

Bucky giggles a little and then hides his face in Steve’s shirt. Steve just holds him and rocks him for a little bit.

He likes this, getting to have Bucky close after being alone for so long, thinking Bucky was dead and that he had nearly nothing left of his old life. It’s far from perfect, and Steve never thought he’d be okay with being ‘Daddy’ but moments like this, it’s great. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 

\---

 

What really hurts is how deeply Pierce seemed to care about him and his boundaries. They talked for hours, outlining what their relationship would look like, what they both wanted out of it, what form it would take. They talked Steve’s Daddy kink and Pierce brought up age play, and even at the time, Steve wondered about Pierce’s past and his other interests, that he knew so much about the scene.

It didn’t feel right to ask though. He’d assumed Pierce had other partners but they didn’t discuss it and Steve didn’t ask. It didn’t feel like his place to pry.

Instead, they just came up with boundaries for the scenes they wanted to have.

Pierce had been so stoic, so serious about boundaries, about what was acceptable, what was not. Steve had liked that about him, felt safe with him, felt like he wouldn’t get misused like he had with William.

In the end, they had a list of agreements.

They agreed: no work talk, no written communication about their scenes, no pictures or video, no diapers, no bottles, no pacifiers, no bedwetting, no restraints, no scenes outside of Pierce’s bedroom and attached bathroom.

They agreed to baths, pajamas, spanking, some toys, using the endearment ‘Daddy,’ hand feeding, traffic light safe words, oral sex, anal sex, frottage, and cuddling in the aftercare.

Steve left Pierce’s house that night feeling light and giddy and like he was finally getting something he’d always wanted. And like he was finally building some connections in the future.

Bucky and the rest of the commandos were dead. Peggy barely remembered him.

It felt good to have something to look forward to for once.

 

\---

 

He doesn’t forget to read to Bucky that night. Bucky is still little at bedtime, and he even looks small, dressed in his Iron Man pajamas and snuggled down with all his teddy bears.

Steve reads him a story about a cat who accidently gets left behind at his family’s vacation home and goes on a skiing adventure to catch up to them, only before he can reach them, the family realizes their mistake and returns for him, finding him alone in the snow and so happy to be reunited.

Bucky seems to like the story, the lovely painted pictures and the adorable cat but it just makes Steve sick to his stomach again, wishing he’d jumped off that train all those years ago.

It’s a pain he keeps thinking will get easier but never does.

Bucky looks like he might actually get some sleep tonight, already blinking sleepily with Bucky Bear clutched to his chest, eyes slipping closed on a muttered, “Good night, Daddy.”

Steve kisses his forehead, kisses Bucky bear and turns off the light behind him.

He goes back to his room and stands in the middle of the living room for a long moment, thinking about Pierce.

About Bucky.

He doesn’t know why Pierce did any of the things he did.

Steve goes across the apartment to the closet in the hallway. It’s full of things salvaged from his place in DC that he shoved in there and never looked at again.

He opens it now, stares down at the duffle bag sitting on the floor. It’s innocuous on the outside, a simple gym bag he carried to work with him sometimes so he would have a change of casual clothes after a mission or a training exercise.

And since many of his scenes with Pierce happened immediately after work, it was also how he got his change of clothes into Pierce’s house.

It hasn’t been opened since the week Nick Fury was shot in his apartment. He’d brought it back from Pierce’s place three days prior to that incident, dropped it in his bedroom and never opened it again.

He doesn’t want to open it. Face what’s in it.

He doesn’t know why Pierce did the things he did. Why he abused Bucky in his daughter’s old room but contained Steve to his own bedroom. Why Bucky got Pierce’s daughter’s old stuffed rabbit and Steve got Honeysuckle - the soft, golden teddy bear currently stuffed inside that duffle bag.

 

\---

 

They built slowly into their scenes, adding a little more kink to it each time to give them both time and space to adjust, figure out what they wanted, how they felt about things once they started actually acting them out rather than just talking about them.

The first time he called Pierce ‘Daddy’ he was kneeling fully clothed at Pierce’s feet while Pierce sat in the reading chair tucked into the corner of his bedroom. Pierce was petting at his hair and called him “Good boy,” when the word fell from Steve’s lips.

He flushed with shame and happiness all at once – wanting _that_ , so hungry for the approval of an older man, _this_ older man. He nuzzled happily into the tented front of Pierce’s pants, begging, _please, Daddy, please let me have it…_

(He hates himself for it now, thinking about how Bucky looked practically green with misery when he tried to undo Steve’s pants. How Bucky clearly did not want to do that but felt like he had no choice. How Steve had _begged_ Pierce to let him suck his cock. How Bucky must’ve just resigned, laid back and thought of HYDRA and let Pierce use him.)

Their second scene was after a mission in which Steve had ignored an order from Fury (again). Pierce led him straight from his front door up to the bedroom and closed that door behind them.

“Color?” he asked before even laying a hand on Steve.

Steve bowed his head. “Green,” he said, even though shame was already starting to unfurl heavy within him. But he stood passively while Pierce undid the buckles and zippers on his uniform, tugging it off Steve till he was naked in the center of the room.

“Bend over the bed,” Pierce ordered gently.

Steve turned toward the bed.

“What do you say?” Pierce prompted.

Steve flushed an even deeper shade of red, sparing a tiny glance up at Pierce’s face before saying, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Over the bed,” Pierce repeated.

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve said again and bent over the bed, heavy with anticipation as he listened to Pierce take off his belt.

Pierce moved up to stand behind Steve, resting one hand on his trembling back.

“I don’t want to do this,” he said. “But you have to learn to be a good boy.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve repeated.

“Only ten tonight because you’re still learning, but in the future, honey, it will be more,” he said and then stepped back and Steve waited for the crack of the belt.

The third time was less hasty. They had planned it out days in advanced. It was a federal holiday – Steve can’t remember which one, Labor Day or President’s Day – and they had the day off, they could take their time.

They fucked on top of Pierce’s expensive sheets. Pierce holding Steve’s hands down, above his head and Steve’s eyes squeezed shut at the barrage of pleasure thrumming through is body. A litany of, ‘ _thank you, Daddy,’_ falling from his lips so loud that Pierce stilled his hips and said, “You have to be quiet, little one. I have neighbors,” but his voice was warm and fond.

Steve opened his eyes, wide and shinny in subspace and nodded, “Yes, Daddy,” but he was back to being just as loud when Pierce started up again.

Pierce had simply laughed, turned Steve over and clamped a hand over his boy’s mouth to keep him quiet before coming hard and deep inside Steve’s body and pulling out.

Steve fell forward against the bed and whimpered, hips moving on autopilot until Pierce steadied him with a hand on his side.

“Please, Daddy,” Steve said. “Please.”

Pierce shook his head. “Only good boys get to come and you didn’t listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry,” he said.

“Hush,” Pierce said, kissing him to quiet him. “Lets get you into a bath, silly boy.”

Later, after the bath, after a bedtime story, after Steve said _thank you_ again, Pierce pulled the golden teddy bear out from a drawer.

“I saw this and thought of you.”

Steve was so surprised he could only gape at it for a minute, the subspace he’d sunk into made it difficult for him to find words.

“Don’t you want it?” Pierce asked after the silence went on a moment.

Steve nodded enthusiastically.

“Here,” Pierce climbed back on the bed with him and pressed the soft, warm bear into his hands and kissed Steve on the side of his head. Steve clutched the bear to his chest and looked from it to Pierce.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said again and kissed Pierce back, hard, on the jaw.

The bear lived, for the most part, in the locked top drawer of Pierce’s bedside table, next to his laptop and one of his guns. It made appearances in every single one of their scenes from then on, and there were many nights Steve went asleep clutching the bear in one hand, the other wrapped around Pierce.

After one particularly rough mission, Steve had spent the night in Pierce’s bed only to wake to find Pierce gone and a note telling him that Pierce had been called into work early.

On impulse, Steve stuffed the bear in his duffle bag when he packed up to leave.

It was still there when the Winter Soldier shot Nick Fury in his apartment the next night.

 

\---

 

Sam finds Steve sitting in the communal living room around one a.m. He’s dressed in track pants and a gray shirt and he eyes Steve suspiciously for a moment.

“Why are you up?” he asks, coming around to the front of the couch.

“Thinking about something,” Steve says and then looks at Sam in the low light of the single lamp burning on the end table. “Nightmare?” he asks.

For all the shit Sam talks, Steve knows nothing’s perfect and Sam still wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes, startling like he just hit the ground with Riley’s body all over again. When that happens, he sometimes likes to walk the tower, to stretch his legs and his mind a little bit, instead of just lying in the dark sick with the truth.

“Yeah,” Sam says.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Sam shakes his head. “You know the drill. Explosions. Riley falling, me failing. Nothing new to report. What’s that old adage? SNAFU? Situation normal, all fucked up?”

Steve nods. “I got him back and I still dream about him falling,” he says.

Sam flops on the couch next to him. “You gonna explain the teddy bear or do I have to ask? Cause that’s not one of Barnes’s.”

Steve had almost forgotten he was holding the thing – fished from the duffle. He’d brought it here because there is a fireplace in the communal living room but not one in his private quarters. He’d meant to burn the thing.

He hadn’t even managed to walk all the way across the room to the fireplace. He’d sat down on the couch and given up.

“It’s mine,” he says.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. He looks tired and Steve momentarily berates himself for not checking on Sam more often. He knows Sam can take care of himself but still… Bucky tends to eclipse everything and it’s not fair to backburner his other friends like that.

“I wasn’t aware you were into teddy bears. I mean, I know Tony gave you Bucky Bear originally but I thought that was just a joke.”

Steve looks down at the thing again – _Honeysuckle_ – his… _it’s_ … soft fur and big brown eyes, blue silk ribbon around it’s neck. He runs his fingers over the ears and there is part of him that wants, very much, to not part with him. _It_.

A _little_ part of him that liked falling asleep with the warm fur pressed against his face, thumb in his mouth and _Daddy_ running a hand through his hair. That place where he felt uniformly safe, taken care of, _loved_ even.

(He hates himself so much, for wanting it then, for indulging in it, for missing it now.)

Steve runs his hands over Honeysuckle’s ears. “I do like them. And he, it,” Steve corrects shaking his head a little. “It was a gift.”

“Every time I think I know you,” Sam says, long suffering. “You regularly come here in the middle of the night and hang out with your teddy?” he asks.

Steve knows he’s only half kidding but something inside him aches.

“No,” he replies. “First time.”

“Why tonight then?”

“I was going to burn him.”

“This just keeps getting more interesting. Why are you committing arson on your teddy bear?”

Steve looks at Sam then, holds his gaze.

“Because Alexander Pierce gave him to me.”

Sam is silent for a long, long moment. Like he’s waiting for Steve to say he was kidding or maybe for this entire night to reveal itself as a weird dream. When that doesn’t happen Sam just blinks slowly, like he needs a little more time to processes this then he says, “Come again?”

“Pierce. It was a gift from Pierce.”

It’s getting easier to say it. It’s not easy at all, but the more he practices, the easier it will be to tell Bucky (though it will never be _easy_ ). He just has to get used to it, in case it gets pulled out in court.

“I know you think you’re making sense but I’m going to need more context, man,” Sam says and so far there is no judgment in his voice.

“My dad died when I was very little,” Steve says. “So, I when puberty rolled around I started noticing boys and girls and… older men. It’s like I wanted some sort of affection I wasn’t getting or hadn’t gotten enough of and my brain twisted it into something depraved. I wanted…,” Steve swallows. “I wanted an older man to boss me around a little, treat me like a kid. Let me be vulnerable, I guess.”

He’s silent for another moment before he goes on. “There was a man back in the 40’s. It wasn’t a good relationship. Poorly negotiated. He was a bully and I let him get away with too much. To listen to Bucky talk about it, you’d think he almost killed me. It wasn’t that bad but the night Bucky carried me home, he told me I could never see the man again and I didn’t.

“Then the war happened. Bucky died. _I_ died. I woke up… I was alone.

“That desire never really went away. This like… itch for an older man to treat me like that.

“I met Pierce and I didn’t expect anything to happen but it just… did. And he was… Kind to me? And, fuck it, I can’t believe he’s the same man who hurt Bucky.”

“People are complicated, even the bad ones. Being good in one context doesn’t mean he wasn’t rotten in another.”

“I know. That’s what makes it _worse_. He was so gentle with me. Gave me exactly what I wanted and I loved it.”

“You age played with Pierce?” Sam asks, just for clarification.

Steve nods. “We fucked too.”

“Shit,” Sam says.

“I don’t know how to tell Bucky. I already told Hill… in case of the trial. I don’t want it to come out up in the trial. I don’t want my issues to hurt Bucky, Sam, I really don’t. I don’t know… how he’s going to take it. He’s going to hate me.”

Steve doesn’t realize he’s clenching Honeysuckle so hard until Sam reaches over and gently touches the bear.

“First. You’re not going to burn the bear. You’re going to give it to Hill and _she’ll_ decide what to do with it. Tell her you never want to see it again unless you absolutely have to.

“Second, everyone copes different, Steve. You lost your father, you wanted something, you went after it. It was supposed to be private, you were consenting, he was consenting, you weren’t hurting anyone. No one will be mad at you for that. Adults do all kinds of shit. You didn’t _know_ what a monster Pierce was. That’s not your fault. I’ve seen his picture and talked to people who worked with him, he was paternal. He seemed kind. You know, not saying I’m into it but I get why you picked him.”

Steve nods, his face burning with shame and eyes threatening tears.

“As far as Bucky goes… Tell him. He loves you. He knows you, some days better than others, but he does know you and I doubt he’ll hold it against you.”

“What if he does?”

Sam shrugs. “He’ll hold it more against you if he finds out in a courtroom, when the rest of the world finds out.”

“You’re right.”

“I often am. I’ve been telling you that.”

“Would it be too much to ask?” Steve starts. “Would you…,” he holds the bear out. “I don’t trust myself with it.”

“Afraid you’re going to cuddle it?”

“Afraid I’m going to destroy it.”

“Giving you shit, man, get with the program,” Sam says. “Sure,” he says and takes the bear. “What’s _one more_ teddy bear to take care of?”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“I’d say anytime but I’m really hoping this is the only time. Anything else you wanna tell me? You took Loki dancing?”

Steve crakes a smile. “No, that’s it for life-altering confessions for a while.”

“Good,” Sam says. “You gonna be okay? I think I wanna try sleeping again.”

“I’ll be okay,” Steve says.

Sam gets to his feet and heads back towards the stairwell.

“Steve,” he says before he leaves. “Don’t beat yourself up over it too bad.”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve replies but not confidently.

 

\---

 

Steve’s been through the photographs. He’s seen the pictures of the locked room down the hall.

He and Pierce would sometimes eat dinner in his expensive dinning room, occasionally watch a movie or a documentary in his living room, but most of their time was spent in Pierce’s bedroom.

To get to the bedroom, Steve had to walk past that room – Pierce’s daughter’s old room.

Bucky’s room.

And Steve tries not to think about if Bucky was ever in the house. Bucky’s told him enough, he’s sat in on enough of Bucky’s therapy sessions. He knows of at least one time Bucky sat under a sink all night when Pierce’s daughter came over unexpected.

He wonders if that ever happened because of him. If Bucky sat somewhere, scared and cold and cramped because Steve showed up unexpected.

(It didn’t happen often show up unexpected wasn’t on the no list so it had happened once or twice.)

He can’t bear to think about it.

But he’s seen the photos. The pajamas pierce bought. The blue stuffed bunny. The Disney movies.

(He watched a Disney movie or two with Pierce.)

He can’t stop thinking about it though. One night in particular.

Pierce spanked him and fucked him and put him in a bath with a warm kiss and said, “Wait here, baby boy, I have something for you,” and left, came back with a pair of fleece dinosaur pajamas in his hands.

They looked very warm and very soft and something giddy unfurled in Steve.

“I saw them and thought of you,” Pierce said, setting them down on the counter and coming back over to wash Steve’s hair, his hands gentle over Steve’s scalp. He laughed when Steve sculpted the bubbles into a rickety tower and took it out with a wave.

After the shampoo was washed from Steve’s hair, Pierce drained the tub and dried him off and then held the pajama pants open for Steve to step into and helped him pull the shirt over his head.

He was right, they were warm. Like wearing a hug from his Daddy.

Pierce led him by the hand back into the bedroom, turned down the covers and ushered Steve in, tucked him in nice and tight and handed him Honeysuckle.

“You want a story?” Pierce asked.

Steve nodded and yawned. “Yes, please, Daddy.”

“Okay, since you’ve been such a good little boy.”

 

\---

 

Bucky spent the morning in the gym with Natasha.

Steve definitely didn’t sulk around his quarters waiting for Bucky to be alone. He’d made up his mind – as long as Bucky was himself today, he’s gonna tell him.

So when Natasha leaves Bucky at his floor after their workout, Steve goes to see him.

Bucky opens the door almost immediately at Steve’s knock, his hair is damp and swept back into a pony tail. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeve Henley, barefoot and well-rested looking (a rare look on Bucky these days). Steve doesn’t want to take it away from him and he knows this information will.

“Want to come to my floor for lunch?” Steve asks. He fidgets a little by accident and he knows that tips Bucky off.

Bucky looks at him for a moment and then says, “Yeah, sure,” but heads back into his own room to collect Bucky Bear first.

Even as an adult he doesn’t like to have the stuffed animal too far from him. (Steve is, somehow, both horrified and endeared by this. In some ways, he thinks it means Bucky is healing, in others, he fears this is as good as life will ever be for his friend.)

Steve asks Bucky how his workout with Natasha went as he makes them toasted sandwiches with veggies and honey for Bucky Bear.

After they eat, Steve is silent, looking down at his empty plate for a long time.

“Would you just spit it out?” Bucky demands, his voice so strong that Steve almost pitches back in his chair – remembering that Bucky can be this way sometime. Brass. Demanding. Himself.

“Lets go in the living room,” Steve says instead by way of deflection.

Bucky rolls his eyes – petulant little shit – but follows Steve anyways, Bucky Bear tucked under one arm.

Steve settles on the couch and Bucky in the arm chair.

“I know you’ve been avoiding telling me something for days,” Bucky says.

“You could always read me.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You’re not the only one to tell me that either.”

“So what are you not telling me? Something about the trial?” Bucky asks.

Steve knows that Bucky believes he should be on trial, despite their best efforts to stop the court case. Nothing Steve has said has managed to change Bucky’s mind and he was fairly sure that Bucky even believed he deserved to go to jail. (Again, Steve was incapable of changing his mind.) And, yeah, he did have to tell him about Rumlow’s testimony but first things first.

“Kind of,” Steve admits. Because that is the only reason to tell Bucky any of this at all. He’d rather forget about the days spent at Pierce’s feet or in his bed and live with the shame and guilt on his own. But if anyone knew, if it gets pulled out into the trial… It’ll be almost too much of a mess to handle.

“I want to ask you if you remember something but it’s okay if you don’t.”

“Okay,” Bucky says. “You know my memory is shoddy at best.”

“I know,” Steve says. His stomach rolls. He’s doing this. He’s really going to do this. “Do you remember… We were living in this old tenement building?”

“I remember the tenement. It’s hazy at times, but there.”

“I had a job with a sign maker, doing painting and lettering and stuff.”

Bucky nods. “I mean, it sounds familiar but I can’t place it exactly.”

Steve realizes that must be how most of Bucky’s life is these days – vaguely familiar but unable to place. It’s not fair.

“I guess, first,” Steve says. “You know I’m bisexual?”

Bucky smirks a little. “I might remember you kissing… what was his name? Jeffry Something, in the back of a dancehall when you were seventeen?”

Steve smirks. He’d forgotten about that. “Timothy Moretti.”

“That’s it,” Bucky says. “Was that what you wanted to tell me? You have a boy you wanna start dating?”

Steve shakes his head. “No… I wanna tell you about someone I was seeing. I’m not anymore.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies. “You didn’t stop seeing him because of me, did you?” he asks. Always ready to pile more guilt onto his plate.

“Kind of,” Steve admits. “But not really. It’s more… complicated than that.”

“Okay…,” Bucky says, dragging the word out.

“You don’t remember William, do you? The accountant I was involved with back in the 30’s?”

Bucky sits back and thinks for a minute. “No, I’m sorry.”

Steve sighs. This would be easier if he did. “He was an older man. Kind of abusive.”

This makes Bucky straighten up a little.

“You never liked him.”

“If he was abusing you…”

“I didn’t think of it as abuse. He was giving me what I wanted.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

Steve is quiet for another moment, trying to figure out what to say next. “He… he fulfilled something in me that I wasn’t getting anywhere else. And that’s why I… let him. Hurt me.”

“What was it? That he fulfilled?”

“He was paternal. He let me be… little,” Steve says. His stomach twists, his palms are sweaty.

Bucky’s gone still. “What are you saying?”

“I age played with William. I mean, it wasn’t called that back then; I don’t know that there was a word for it back then. But I, I liked it. But it was poorly negotiated and you made me stop.”

Bucky’s fidgeting a little. His hand drifting over Bucky Bear before putting the stuffed animal down, brow furrowed.

“So you’re… you _were_ like me?” he asks.

Steve can’t get a read on him. He doesn’t seem upset but he also seems to still be thinking it over – like he has to decide whether or not to be upset.

“In a way, but it wasn’t… exactly like you. I wanted it. I wanted to be little, I wanted to…,” he takes a deep breath. He’s has to say it. “I wanted to call an older man ‘Daddy.’ I wanted to be ordered around a little, taken care of a little. Treated that way. William abused that desire and therefore me but it wasn’t his idea for me to call him that.”

Bucky stands up abruptly, not looking at Steve. He’s shaking, nervous energy and walks the length of the room and back before sitting back down.

“Okay,” he says after a minute.

“Okay?” Steve echoes.

“Just because I didn’t chose it doesn’t mean I don’t understand why it’s comforting,” he says and shrugs. “Sorry you ended up being Daddy after all these years.” His voice is thick with self-deprecation.

“No, Buck, no,” Steve says and takes his hand. “I know I didn’t react the best at first but it doesn’t matter to me. I want you to be here, I want to take care of you, whatever you need. I want to give it to you.”

Bucky smiles then. “That’s what makes you a better Daddy than Pierce.”

It feels like a cold stone being dropped right through him. How can he tell Bucky? How can he admit to viewing Pierce’s home as a place of warmth and comfort, to looking forward to sleeping in the man’s bed?

“I have to tell you something else,” Steve says, seriously.

“Saved up all your confessions for one day? You know I’m not your priest,” Bucky teases.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s a continuation of the same confession. And this one… you really need to know.”

“What is it?” Bucky asks, curious but not worried.

Steve lets go of his hand and leans back a little. “When I came out of the ice, after I got settled in the future I… I went looking for another relationship like the one I had with William.”

“You went looking for another Daddy?” Bucky clarifies.

Steve nods.

“Did you find one?”

There is a pause before Steve nods again.

“You don’t see him anymore,” Bucky says, matter-of-factly.

Before Steve can answer him, he goes on.

“Because of me?” Bucky asks, and he’s shrunk a little into the couch, looking miserable and upset with himself.

“Not for the reasons you’d think. It’s… it’s good I don’t see him anymore.”

“I don’t want to take shit away from you, Steve. If this is something you want or need or whatever, you can have it. You don’t have to stop on my behalf.”

“Buck, it’s not what you think,” Steve says.

But Bucky just steamrolls on. “I know you spend a lot of time taking care of me and I’m sorry, I really am, so you should take time for yourself and do whatever makes you happy.”

“Bucky, listen to me. First, I like looking out for you. You spent years saving my sorry ass, let me return the favor. Second, it’s more complicated than you know.”

“Then what is it? Why did you stop seeing him because of me?”

“Because he’s dead,” Steve blurts out. “He’s dead, Bucky.”

“Oh god,” Bucky rocks forward like he’s sick to his stomach. “Did I kill him? Steve… don’t tell me your Daddy was one of the Winter Soldier’s victims. Don’t tell me that, Steve, please.”

“No, no, Buck, no,” Steve says, trying to do some damage control unsuccessfully. “He died in the Triskelion, the last day you were the Winter Soldier.”

“That sounds like it’s my fault.”

“It’s actually _his_ fault,” Steve says, looking down and noticing that he’s been clenching his hand uncontrollably.

“His fault? It’s his own fault he died that day?”

“Yes,” Steve grits out.

They’re close now. He’s going to have to tell him, he doesn’t have a choice. Bucky is looking at him so confused. A few strands of his hair have come loose from his pony tail and are falling gracefully across his face. He looks his age, he looks older than his age, younger, too, somehow. A multitudes of lives wrapped up in one man and it’s almost too much to handle.

Steve cracks.

“Pierce,” he says. “It was Pierce. Alexander Pierce was my Daddy.”

 

\---

 

Steve was wearing the dinosaur pajamas when Pierce came back into the room with a glass of milk and a plate of cookies. He smiled warmly at Steve, who was sitting on the floor by the bed, Honeysuckle held close in one arm, pressed to his chest.

“You’ve been a very good boy,” Pierce said. “So I have a treat for you.”

He sat next to Steve on the floor and broke off a piece of cookie. “Open up,” he ordered gently and fed him it to him slowly, piece by piece. Steve taking each one graciously, licking at the pads of Pierce’s fingers and smiling all the while.

Pierce then held the glass of milk for Steve to drink from, some of it spilling down his chin as he gulped it down.

“Beautiful,” Pierce said, setting the empty glass down and wiping at the milk on Steve’s chin. “Anyone tell you how beautiful you are?”

Steve blushed and hid his face in his hands.

“None of that. You have no need to be shy,” Pierce said and pulled his hands away, leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Come on, you,” he said, climbing on the bed and tugging up on Steve.

Steve climbed up after him, following him down to where Pierce leaned against the headboard.

“I can’t pick you up, but come here.” He patted his thigh and Steve scrambled into his lap, a leg on either side of Pierce’s hips and wrapped both arms around Pierce’s neck. He snuggled in close, feeling safe and warm and worry-free for the first time in ages.

Pierce hushed him, stroked a hand through his hair and down his back. “That’s it,” he said soothingly. “Let Daddy take care of you for now.”

They sat like that for a long time. Steve occasionally pressing in closer and Pierce murmuring comforting nonsense.

 

\---

 

Bucky has gone icy still.

“If this is a joke,” he says very calmly, the set of his shoulders looking more and more like the Winter Soldier by the minute. “It’s not funny.”

Steve wants to cry. “It’s not a joke. I would never… that would be a terrible joke, Bucky. It’s the truth. I was involved with Pierce and I am so, so sorry. I wish I could take it back, more than anything.”

Bucky clutches Bucky Bear tightly in his grip and stares at the bear as Steve goes on.

“I didn’t know that he was HYDRA, that he had you. I wish I did. I would’ve done anything to save you. I’m so sorry. I met him at a fundraiser and we flirted and it turned into… into that.”

Bucky nods, still staring at the bear.

“If I had known…”

“Stop,” Bucky says. “Stop.”

Steve shuts up.

Bucky has started rocking back and forth minutely. Steve’s afraid he’s going slip into being a kid again and he does not want to have this conversation with the kid.

Eventually, Bucky stops rocking.

“So,” he says. “Did…,” he swallows.

“You can ask me anything, Buck.”

Bucky looks like he’s going to cry. “Did Pierce chose this because… because.” He can’t get all the words out.

“No,” Steve says, sharply. “I checked the time lines. Pierce…” He can’t believe how messed up all this is. “Pierce already had you for a while before I met him.” His voice is very small. “He had you before I even came out of the ice.”

Bucky nods.

“I feared the same thing. We looked at HYDRA’s files and spoke to… spoke to some of the captured STRIKE team and it was just the world’s most awful coincidence.”

Bucky exhales and looks more deflated but less disturbed. “I remember your mother’s funeral,” he says.

Something twists up inside Steve.

“Buried right next to your father. You wanted to be alone after. I watched you from a distance, though. I was worried about you. I watched you touch your father’s headstone. You told me you didn’t want my help, but later, when it was dark and we were the only ones awake, you sat in my lap and cried for a very long time.”

Well, he’d sat next to Bucky on the floor and cried. Bucky had put his arm over Steve’s wiry shoulders and after a few minutes, Steve had climbed into Bucky’s lap and buried his face in his shoulder and cried himself dry. Bucky had held him and rocked him and shushed him and it was exactly what he needed. He felt tiny and miserable and sick with himself, but it was what he needed.

“I remember thinking that I was all you had left,” Bucky says.

“You were,” Steve agrees.

“I was going to say ‘I can’t imagine what waking up alone in the future must’ve felt like.’ Only I can imagine it. I’ve done it more times than I know. Waking up to all those strange faces, strange places. Terrified, alone, cold.”

There’s an edge to Bucky’s voice, a hardness that’s holding back all the hurt.

“Daddy— _Pierce_ —,” he corrects quickly. “If he had just hurt me it would’ve been easier. But he didn’t. He held me and brushed my hair and said nice things to me and that’s what makes it so hard.

“If I had woken up alone in the future and been given just that, just the good stuff…” Bucky shrugs. “That’s what he did for you, right?” Now his voice cracks. “Just the good stuff?”

Steve nods, tears prickling at the edges of his eyes. “Just the good stuff.”

Bucky nods. “That’s… okay. That’s okay,” he says and leans forward to put his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve says.

Bucky leans back and wipes a tear from his face. “It’s okay,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Pierce did.” 

“I wish I could take it back,” Steve says.

“Did he…,” Bucky starts and then shakes his head like he doesn’t want to know.

He stands up, moves across the room again, pulls his hair out of the ponytail. Shoves his hands through it.

“Did he use that room?” Bucky finally asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Only his bedroom.”

“He give you toys?” Bucky asks with a sneer.

“A teddy bear,” Steve replies.

“Where’s it now?”

“I gave it to Sam to give to Hill. I couldn’t look at it anymore.”

Bucky digs the heal of his palm into his eye, rubbing so hard Steve is afraid he’s going to hurt himself for a moment until he stops sharply, leaving his face red and worn.

“I think… I think we might’ve shared pajamas and story books,” Steve admits, ashamed. He can feel he’s red all the way down the back of his neck.

Bucky bursts out a humorless laugh. “The pajamas,” he says. “Holy fuck, I think I remembered them between wipes, you know? They were warm and comfortable and HYDRA never dressed me in anything comfortable. Fifty years of leather jackets and BDU’s until Pierce.”

Steve’s not sure what to say. Sometimes, there is nothing to say.

Bucky laughs again, the same dry, grating noise as before. There’s no mirth in it. Then he’s quiet for a long stretch, contemplating something, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail.

Finally, he speaks. “I’m not mad,” he says. “I mean, this must be shit for you. To wake up, alone, seventy years in the future and find someone who makes you feel good only to discover he was a mass murdering fuckhead who abused your best friend. Holy shit, that must’ve sucked, Steve.”

“That is not the response I was expecting a all,” Steve admits.

Bucky shrugs, stops chewing on his thumb. “Pierce fooled most of the intelligence community, how could you expect to see through him?”

“That’s a… that’s a really good point,” Steve concedes.

“I have those on occasion,” Bucky says and comes back over to the couch, his stride less distressed than before. He sits back down next to Steve. “I’m sorry you lost that. Being little, or whatever.”

“Bucky, I’d give up anything for you,” he admits.

Bucky shakes his head with a smile. “I know. You don’t have to but I know you would. Thank you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to grieve what you did lose.”

“I lost a relationship with an abusive psychopath,” Steve says.

“But that’s not what you thought it was at the time.”

“It doesn’t matter what I thought it was at the time.”

“Yes, it does. That’s why it hurts, Steve. I’m not afraid of Pierce because he gave me a stuffed bunny and told me I was fixing the world, I’m afraid of him because he did all that and he beat me and…,” he stops abruptly.

Bucky still won’t say the word _rape_.

But Steve is going to let him handle that in his own time in his own way.

“You get my point,” he finishes. “So let me for once in my fucked up life tell you that I’m sorry. In his own way, Pierce abused us both. You just got the long game version.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Of course you hadn’t. You’d rather just beat yourself up.”

“Hey,” Steve objects.

Bucky shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve says.

“And you’re a punk.”

Steve smiles. It’s not that he doesn’t love Bucky no matter what but moments like this are still his favorite. When they are themselves, in spite of everything.

But it doesn’t last.

“I can’t promise you how I will feel about this when I’m little,” Bucky says.

“Will you still want me to be your Daddy?” Steve asks and every time he thinks he’s gotten used to that word he finds he’s not used to it at all.

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush, forever ashamed of what Pierce did to him, of who he is now, of what he needs.

“I think… I think that one is hanging around for a while,” he says. “Possibly forever.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says and takes Bucky’s hand again. “I like taking care of you.”

Bucky squeezes his hand and looks thoughtful but doesn’t say anything more.

 

\---

 

Steve waits a day to tell Bucky about Rumlow and that goes considerably worse. Bucky doesn’t have a problem with Rumlow so much as he seems to have a problem with someone defending him. It takes a day but Steve manages to convince Bucky to let Rumlow testify on his behalf.

“The good news,” Hill says when she calls him after Bucky told her to let Rumlow testify. “Is that Rumlow says he had no idea you and Pierce may have been involved and heard no such rumors to that affect. The only wildcard would be Pierce’s neighbors but, so far, they are not on the list of witnesses the prosecution is calling. I’m not promising anything, but I think the odds of your relationship with Pierce coming out during the trial are very low.”

Steve doesn’t want to tempt fate but he does relax slightly. He doesn’t know how they’ll defend Bucky if everyone knew he was sleeping with Pierce, age-playing with Pierce.

For not the first time, he gets sick to his stomach over memories of walking down the hallway in Pierce’s house, past that locked room. Wondering if Bucky was ever in there while he was over.

Bucky is very upset over the trial and very little and very tired after the previous day’s antics, so even though he slept in that morning, he begs Steve to take a nap with him that afternoon. Sometimes Bucky seems to take comfort in Steve’s mere proximity, like knowing he’s near by means knowing that HYDRA doesn’t have him anymore and that if they come for him, someone will protect him.

Steve agrees. Honestly, he spent most of the night lurking in the laundry room waiting guiltily for Bucky’s inevitable accident; he could use a nap as well.

They both change into sweatpants and t-shirts and Steve closes the blinds in his bedroom, sets an alarm for a couple of hours and the two of them slip down between the sheets.

There was a part of him that was afraid to share a bed with Bucky when he first came to the tower. Afraid that Bucky would misinterpret the situation, would think Steve would have the same expectations Pierce had, but Steve somehow managed to convince Bucky that he wasn’t the same as Pierce. Besides, he kind of liked sharing a bed with Bucky on occasion, liked waking up and seeing his best friend and knowing that he still had something left, after everything.

Under the sheets, Bucky squirms a little, trying to get comfortable. He’s brought Bucky Bear and Captain Ameribear to bed with him, clutching Bucky Bear against his chest.

“Daddy,” he mutters, his voice low in the darkness.

Steve smiles over at him. “You okay, lamb?”

He makes a little humming noise and then says, “Here,” and pushes Captain Ameribear across the bed and into Steve’s hand.

“You can sleep with him,” Bucky then says.

Steve freezes for a moment, the soft fur of the bear tickling the palm of his hand.

“If you want,” Bucky goes on when Steve doesn’t respond right away.

Steve realizes something is happening – Bucky is acknowledging that part of him, the little part of him, the part of him that had a golden teddy bear but didn’t get to keep it.

“Thank you,” he says and kisses Bucky’s forehead before settling more snuggly down into the blankets with Captain Ameribear clutched in the crook of one arm and quickly falling asleep.

 

\---

 

The trial is taxing and horrible and Steve wants nothing more than to shelter Bucky from it but there is nothing he can do.

He doesn’t tell Bucky, but after Bucky goes to sleep, him and Tony and Natasha have a quiet conversation in which they discuss what they will do if Bucky is found guilty. There is no way Steve is going to let Bucky go to jail.

Bucky doesn’t sleep, hardly eats and clings to Steve every moment he can. Steve does his best to reassure him but it never seems to be enough. And sometimes, after Bucky has gone to bed to attempt to sleep and Steve pauses in the doorway to look at him, Steve misses Pierce.

Well. He doesn’t miss Pierce exactly. He misses being cared for, having someone to help shoulder the weight a little. Have someone take care of him, pet his hair and make sure he’s fed.

He likes taking care of Bucky because it’s Bucky. There is a sense of fulfillment in knowing that, after everything that he’s been through, Bucky finally has someone really taking care of him, really loving him and caring about what happens to him.

Steve doesn’t think there’s anyone else on earth who deserves that more than Bucky. It makes him feel guilty for wanting to be taken care of himself.

The trial is stressful on everyone though. Steve sits behind Bucky and listens to sickening testimony after sickening testimony – old HYDRA agents who tell about the horrors that were used to break Bucky down and control him. Or STRIKE team members who claim Bucky was happy with his lot in life until Steve wrenched it all asunder.

Every day he worries one of them will mention him and Pierce and he’ll be called to the stand to explain why _Captain America_ wanted to wear microfleece pajamas and have bedtime stories read to him.

Rumlow’s testimony proves itself to be invaluable. And while Steve is always going to hate the man for being his friend while letting Bucky be abused, he’s thankful for the things he has to say about Bucky’s lack of agency as the Winter Soldier.

He doesn’t mention Steve and Pierce. None of Pierce’s neighbors get called to the stand and no one identifies Steve’s motorcycle on Pierce’s home security cameras for everyone to see.

When the _Not Guilty_ verdict is reached, Steve exhales for what feels like the first time in years. There are more legal loopholes to jump through – they still want Bucky committed somewhere and Steve’s not about to let that happen but at least he doesn’t have to steal one of Tony’s jets and head to Somalia. Everything else they can handle.

Bucky’s name has been cleared. People will talk shit about him on the news for a while but it’ll blow over – in the end he’ll be remembered as a victim and the world’s oldest POW.

And now that the trial is over and he no longer has to worry about going to jail, Bucky, finally, sleeps. First with his head on Steve’s shoulder on the car ride home, then on the couch in the communal living room and finally in Tasha’s room.

 

\---

 

 

It doesn’t register that Bucky is up to something at first.

Steve thinks the tiny smile curling around the edges of his lips is just Bucky starting to relax now that he knows he’s not going to end up in prison.

It’s three weeks after the end of the trial that he learns that Bucky has been _plotting_.

He’s just returned from the VA, where he’s been volunteering a little bit ever since meeting Sam, when Bucky comes to find him.

He stands shyly in the doorway, ringing his hands a little in the ever-present nervousness that now seems to be a fundamental part of him even when he’s not little. And right now, he’s not little.

“I want to show you something,” he says.

“Okay,” Steve replies and follows Bucky to his bedroom.

His room is made up as usual – the Bearavengers lining the foot of the bed, the low bookshelf tidy along one wall.

The only thing unusual is the stuffed sheep sitting on Bucky’s desk. It’s the same size as Bucky Bear, pure white with bright, gray eyes and a yellow ribbon around its neck.

Bucky picks it up and flushes bright red as he shoves it toward Steve and he has no choice but to take it.

“His name’s Finnegan,” Bucky says without making eye contact. His metal arm jerks slightly and goes still. “I mean, you can change his name I just thought… that he was Irish?”

There is something both sweet and heartbreaking in the way Bucky speaks about the sheep.

Steve finds himself holding the thing like it’s delicate, like if he’s not careful with it, it will break. But it’s soft and its wide eyes are imploring.

“He’s, uh, he’s for you?” Bucky says like it’s a question but Steve figures out what he means. “He’s a gift. For you,” Bucky says, this time more like a statement. “Sam helped me pick him out,” he says, blushing.

“I know it wasn’t my business but I talked to Sam and he told me about the bear and I.” He stops speaking and shrugs.

“I mean,” he tries again, rubbing his forehead with metal fingers. “If there’s something you need,” he says. “You could always ask me.

“I know it might not be what… what you were used to. It won’t be perfect.

“I don’t want any of the sexual aspects. Probably ever. But if you wanted… If you wanted to be little, you can be,” he finally says, his face beet red. “It _is_ comforting,” he admits. “I know I’m not always big or stable but when I am, if you want that, with me, you can have it.”

 

\---

 

 

It’s not often. But sometimes, after a rough mission or just because, if Bucky is feeling up to it, Steve shows up at Bucky’s door with Finnegan.

He doesn’t call him ‘Daddy.’ That seems like too much, feels like asking too much and he’s kind of grown into being _Daddy_ himself. But he leans on Bucky, lets Bucky brush his hair and read to him, kiss his forehead and Finnegan’s nose.

“It’s a little bit like we’re brothers in a weird way,” Bucky says one night, carding a hand absentmindedly through Steve’s hair where Steve is resting his head on Bucky’s chest after the story is done.

The tower is calm and quiet and peaceful in a way that Pierce’s house never really was. It feels like everything is right, at least for a moment, after so many things had gone wrong for so long.

He has Bucky and a real chance to be himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The story Steve reads Bucky is "Cross-Country Cat" by Mary Calhoun.


End file.
